Hesitate
by We'reNotSupposedToTalkAboutIt
Summary: His hands are saying that he wants to hold her. His feet are saying that he wants to chase after her... He's probably forgotten that I'm here, beside him ― Ai Yazawa Jacob/OC
1. Chapter 1: Empire of Dirt

Chapter 1

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Running away is not something I do.

_Ever. _

To me, if there is any way to resolve a conflict, it is to fight and to not cower away with my tail tucked between my legs. But every time I look in the wide, dark brown eyes of my mother and see the worry and panic they hold, I know that running is our only option. It had been our only choice four years ago when, at the tender and innocent age of thirteen, I had been ripped away from the warmth and comfort of my best friends in the Quileute reservation of La Push, and forced to start a new life in the equally as freezing country of Iceland.

Iceland, however, is not where we are. After three years of anxiously hiding out in Iceland, we were discovered. Meaning that, once again, just as I was beginning to feel a sliver of comfort in my surroundings, it was time to run. This time, it was to Canada.

In retrospect, running to the coldest areas isn't exactly the best of ideas when considering the constant blanket of white, impenetrable cloud gives our hunters the advantage.

But, like I said, I do not, nor will I ever, back down from a fight. Unfortunately, I'm not the one calling the shots, that job goes to the two remaining members of my family: my mother Taini and my last remaining brother Jacy; both of whom are currently attempting to barricade all entrances into the house in a vain attempt to buy us more time before the guards (or as I like to call them the sycophants) find us.

I don't notice that the both of them have approached me until Mom pulls me into a bone crushing hug along with Jacy. I breathe in her musky scent as I bury my face in her long brown hair, committing it to memory; this might be the last time I may ever get to smell it again. Her tiny body shakes with sobs.

She never was the same after my father died. She had been so energetic and full of life, but when he died, it's like he took a part of her with him. In the first few months, she wouldn't eat or sleep, her eyes would stare blankly in front of her, her face would stay emotionless. It took her months to return to us, but she was only a ghost of her former self. She never laughed anymore. She'd lost so much weight that she was almost skeletal…she still is.  
Her eyes are still haunted and the dark circles beneath them remain even to this day. She very nearly went spiralling back into that void when she found out about Chaska and Mikasi's deaths.

As for me, I simply went numb. I was still reeling from the shock of Dad's death when I heard about Chaska and Mikasi's deaths, and from then on I felt nothing; no remorse no guilt, just nothing. It was as if the part of my brain that registered emotion faded away like my brothers' presence from this world. I became a robot, only doing things as if I was on some sort of autopilot; the only thing that kept me going was that I still had one brother left. Jacy needed someone to take care of him; he was, after all, only thirteen then. Forced to grow up at only fourteen, I said goodbye to any hopes I had of a normal childhood, and welcomed the task of looking after my younger brother.

Jacy was the exact opposite. Being the youngest in the family, Dad's death hit him the hardest. He acted out, getting into all kinds of trouble with school and he even got himself arrested once. I think it was the trouble with the police that finally set him straight, thank god it because I was at my wit's end with him. I should resent our mother for abandoning us emotionally, but it is impossible because I understand how she felt and I know that she was hurting.

I pull away from them and look directly into my mother's eyes, ones that are so much like my own. "Please, mom, please stop acting like you've given up. You can't, we need you. We're not going to give in to them. We can fight them, we're stronger this time. You know we are." I search her eyes, looking for something, anything that will tell me she hasn't given up, and I see nothing. They are devoid of emotion; she thinks we're going to die.

"Mom?" I ask, but receive no answer.

I turn to my brother.

"Jacy?" His eyes aren't looking at me, but still I know that they hold despair. He doesn't think we're going to get out of here either.

I let out an exasperated sigh and make my way over to the window, glaring at our inconsequential surroundings. The streets outside are so quiet, not even one car goes by.

In fact, everything has gone quiet. I notice that the previously howling wind has stopped, not one leaf is rustling, not even the crickets are chirping tonight. I don't have to be a genius to know they have begun to close in on us.

I open my mouth to warn them but something else beats me to it: a deafeningly loud screech. Another screech sounds out almost immediately after the first. Then another screech and another. They run over each other, getting louder and louder, and their high-pitched tones intermingle to create an unbearable noise. I put my hands to my ears to try to muffle the sound but the shrieks remain as loud as ever. Something warm and sticky drips down over my hands. I pull my hands away in shock and my eyes widen; they're covered in blood. I let out a scream as the intensified screeches burst the blood vessels in my eyes. To an onlooker, it must look like I am crying blood.

My legs give out from under me and I fall to my knees, my hands are back in their former place of clutching at my head. The blood is still running down my hands, and my eyes begin to throb. I scream again, the noise conflating with Mom's and Jacy's screams of agony.

The screeching stops. I freeze; waiting for a few seconds to make sure it won't come back. When I am certain it is over, I stand up tentatively, and see my mother and brother crouched on the floor just as I was.

Just as I am about to take a step towards them, a shriek louder that the ones before breaks the heavy silence. The glass shatters with such a force that I get thrown back into the wall. I'm pretty sure the loud crunch I hear is not from the table I landed on. A sharp pain in my abdomen pulls my thoughts away from the sickening crack. I don't even try to hold back the cry of agony. I try to twist up to reach whatever has lodged itself in between my liver and my stomach, but as I do so, I hear a piercing scream. With a shock, I realise that the strangled cry was mine. I give up on trying moving after the third scream that ripped itself from my throat. Holy crap, it fucking hurt! I steady my breathing and try to remove the giant piece of glass but it doesn't budge. Oh crap. Oh shit, this is it, isn't it? I'm going to die. My blood begins to seep all around me, saturating my t-shirt and jeans.

Oh please, let it be quick.

* * *

But today just isn't my day.

As fast as they are with their enhanced speed, they cannot avoid the shatters that echoed as the shards of glass are crushed beneath their lithe steps. My shallow breaths falter; they're getting closer.

They're circling us, they could have taken us the moment they arrived, but instead they've decided to play with us first, to see how long it will take for the suspense to drive us so mad that we'd be begging for them to end it. That's what they did to my father Alexander, that's what they did to my two older brothers Chaska and Mikasi, and that's what they were going to do to us.

I grit my teeth as I try to move to my other side to look for mom and Jacy, barely holding back the scream that threatens to break free of the prison of my blood-stained lips. I know that I am quickly losing blood, things are beginning to blur in and out of focus. With a shaky breath, I lift myself off the floor into a sitting position. When my eyes adjust to the lack of light, I see my mom and Jacy lying a few feet away from me, the ground beneath them is steadily growing a deep red. I bite my lip to hold back the cries that ache to come out. The lump in my throat takes a strangling hold, squeezing tight until I'm choking and my tears run free.

Neither of them is moving.

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A/N: okay, so I hope you liked it, if you did, please review and tell me why. If not, please also review and tell me what was wrong. I think I should probably warn you now that both Bella and Jacob will be a little OOC at times, and a fair majority of the protaganist's thoughts will be Bella-Bashing (sorry to those who actually like her).  
I know I haven't said what the main character's name is yet, that is because I am leaving it up to you (if anyone is actually going to read this), so if you want, please can you leave suggestions for what you want the main character's name to be.

Thanks :D


	2. Chapter 2: Full Of Broken Thoughts

**A/N: So here it is: the second chapter (wow, I didn't think I'd actually get this far :P). It's dedicated to my first reviewers (YAY!). The first being the anonymous one (you know who you are :D), thank you for taking the time to (kinda ominously) tell me to update.**

**Spyro Flavord Skittles: I'm really glad you think so, I didn't think anyone was actually going to read it, so wahey! Brilliant, I can't stand her either, she's just so eurgh ( I can't really think of a word good enough to describe how much I despise her). Anywho, thank you so much for reviewing, hope you find this chapter as intriguing :D**

**Hope you guys like this chapter, still no Jacob just yet, maybe in the next one, we'll see. Please review and tell me what you think. I still haven't really decided on a name yet for the main character, that's still up to you guys. I did, however, stick a nickname in there but that's inconsequential, her full name is still for anyone who's interested to decide..okay maybe not her full name, I've already got the surname, I just need a first name so any ideas?**

**I'm probably annoying you so I'll shut up now and let you read this next chapter ;)**

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Chapter 2

5324. That's how many stone tiles on the ceiling. 3067 of them covered in a dark moss-like substance, 400 hundred have cracks and the rest are a plain grey.

I know this because I've had a lot of time to count. I'd say how long it's been since they took me, but even I don't know; the cell is too dark to differentiate between day and night. The only thing I do know is that each time I'm on my own the image of the still bodies of mom and Jacy invade my thoughts and I've not stopped crying since. When they are here, I do not allow even one drop of moisture to fill my eyes. I will not let them see what they've done to me. Emotionally that is. Physically is a different story; deep slashes that bleed almost non-stop shroud every inch of my body .  
Every time, they unearth new places that have not yet been wounded. I don't know where they find them because each time I look down all I see is crimson.

A loud clatter awoke me from my stupor. The great wooden door opened with a resounding scrape against the stone floor to reveal a short figure wearing a deep black cape. They walked towards me with measured steps; no doubt here to begin today's administration of pain.

"Back for more so soon, short stack?" I can't help but taunt the child-like woman. It's practically in my blood to be an antagonizing smartass. Even if I'm strapped to what will soon become my deathbed.

The figure says nothing.

"What, no biting comeback today? I must say, munchkin, that hurts." My attempted smirk probably just looks a bloodied grimace. "You cut me real deep there half pint…" I chuckled at my joke. Well someone's got to.

The figure quickened their steps until they were right beside me but then they hesitated. I raised an eyebrow; they usually just get on with the torture. The person pulled down their hood and the light that spilled in through the open doorway lit up their face. I frowned, there was something weird going on…usually she maintained an insufferable smug smirk throughout her blood-filled administrations, her crimson eyes would glisten with glee as she sliced through the layers of flesh and then narrow in frustration when I would grit my teeth and hold back the screams of agony. But today, her face showed neither excitement nor anticipation at the bloodshed to come, and her usual predatory orbs held nothing if not a hint of fear and trepidation.

"Why so silent, stretch? You're not getting bored with me, are you?" I mocked.  
She was being really odd. She didn't even have the others bring in the tray that held the various blades, daggers and scalpels today. If moving didn't almost kill me each time, I'd laugh.

"We don't have much time. It won't be long before they discover that I am here, we must leave before they realise I have taken her place."

"Taken whose place? Jeez, Blondie have you been drinking from that crack-head again?"

"Caramia?"

I froze. That one little nickname sent waves of anguish sweeping over me in a violent tsunami. There was only one person in the world who called me that and he was dead because of me. My eyes blazed as I stared up at her. "Why did you just call me that? Who told you that name?"

She heaved a sigh of exasperation. "Caramia, it's me. I'm not Jane; I simply took on her appearance. It seemed like the only way I could get to you."

Well she succeeded, consider me gotten to. What the fuck is she talking about?

I gasped as I realised what this was. She didn't have her tools with her because today wasn't about the physical pain; it was going to be an infliction of crippling mental torture. Of course they would know about the nickname, just as they knew everything about my life, privacy meant as little to them as mortal life. I said nothing in response to her, turning my face away to stare blankly at the stone wall, it was, after all, more interesting than having my heart shredded with incisions through her words.

She sighed again and muttered softly to herself, "I had hoped it would not have to come to this." Moving closer, she laid her hand on my cheek…gently and intimately.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to not lean into the contact, what was she playing at? An eerie change in the air accompanied her next sigh; it was warmer and much more inviting. I began hyperventilating, in some ways I had become used to the feeling of having my flesh carved into so the kindness that now so clearly emanated from her was more than a little unnerving. The hand was laid on my cheek shifted slightly; the smooth cold skin altered to become rougher and calloused. I squeezed my eyes tighter, willing myself to ignore the change. The voice that spoke was not the simpering speech I had grown used to. No, this voice, although just as perfect, was rougher, lower and so very familiar.

"Caramia, look at me."

I deftly but stubbornly shook my head, squeezing my eyes tighter, so much so that tears leaked from the corners. This could not be happening, this isn't happening, it's part of another one of their mind games, it has to be. But I cannot deny what is in front of me; it feels too real to be a trick.

"You can't be here. You're not real…You're dead." But even as I say these words, I know they're not true. And I was not the only one.

"You know you don't believe that. Caramia, look at me. I am real, I am here." A calloused yet still so silky thumb caressed my cheekbone, wiping away the tear that had snaked its way out of the corner of my eye. The other hand worked swiftly to release me from the various ropes and chains which bound me to the wooden slab, the feeling of having the blood rush freely, without constriction, through my veins was excruciating. It then gently encircled its way around my bare waist to keep me from falling to the ground. My head rested in the crook of his neck, breathing in his enticing scent of rainfall. My whisper was so soft, yet the silence in the room made it echo as if I were shouting.

"But how can you be? I saw it happen. I watched as…" I took a shaky breath, my eyes still refusing to look at what was right in front of me, my mind still clinging to logic. "I watched as th-they ripped your throat out with their bare hands like it was nothing to them. I watched as...as they killed you. But you're still- why? "

I'd never heard silence this loud; it surrounded me, shrouding me in its tangible stillness. He pulled away from me, his arm was still around my waist, and the hand that had been soothingly caressing my cheek tilted my face up. I slowly opened my eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the invading light that submerged my senses.

The first thing I noticed was that his once ash coloured eyes now had a topaz hue, it was as if his irises had been sculpted from the crystals themselves for they glinted charmingly in what little light there was in the dank chamber. He was paler too, if he stood against the light of the moon I wouldn't be able to tell which was light and which was skin; he always had a pale complexion but now it was almost like he had been away from the glow of the sun for centuries. All these changes, however, didn't take away from the fact that he was still as devastatingly beautiful as he'd always been, if not more; his features were sharp, angular and more than a little perfect. His hair was black, almost like night itself; its unruly curls framed his enthralling eyes as if it were effortless. And his lips…were moving. I mentally shook myself out of my shock, or at least tried to, and made the attempt to focus on what he was saying.

"I know that you probably have a lot of questions," he shot me a silencing look when he saw that I was about to interrupt with a sarcastic remark, "but for now, Caramia, can I simply focus on getting you out of here?"

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**A/N: so thats the second chapter, hope you liked it :D**


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